Blest To Have Met  In Time
by moms2398
Summary: Set in the time after Kirk's "death" on Enterprise-B and "Encounter At Farpoint"  ST:TNG , Spock finally finds love. Takes place over the course of 17 years. It's been a while since I've written Trek, so please Read & Review.
1. 2310

Blest As To Have Met…In Time

_A/N: This story takes place in the years between Kirk's "death" on Enterprise-B and "Encounter At Farpoint". It was inspired by a statement made by Picard in the opening sequence of the Episode "Sarek" – "I met him once…very briefly at his son's wedding". With the help of "Memory Prime", which calculated a time frame for that wedding, I constructed the following._

_Also, while there is no reference in canon to Lady Amanda's death, I have chosen to go with the version from the book __Crucible: Spock 'The Fire and the Rose'__, which places her death in 2311 in a shuttle accident._

_In addition, while I know that canon is firm about Starfleet Headquarters being in San Francisco, there has not been real canon set for UFP Headquarters, other than it is on Earth – at least, not that I could find. So I took some poetic license and set it in Zurich…just kind of made sense that the Ambassadorial Headquarters would be in the country with a history for peace and neutrality._

_As always, there is no copyright or trademark infringement intended. None of the Star Trek ideas or characters belong to me, I simply have had a long standing love affair with the series' and their characters._

2310

"Your grandfather is here."

Angel Carmona's head popped up from the PADD she'd been reading. "Here? What in the world for?"

Her Orion roommate shrugged one shoulder. "He didn't say, but I'm guessing it wasn't just to say 'hi' to me and to check if you were, actually, here. He could have done that over comms."

Angel sighed. "The universe is just filled with smartasses, isn't it?"

Saketh'a smiled. "Yep. And you and I are living proof. Go, greet your grandfather."

Angel stood. "I'm going, I'm going." She left her private quarters to go to the common area with some trepidation.

Grandpa was one of the most respected medical doctors in the entire Federation, having held a private practice for a time, then distinguishing himself many times over during a long Starfleet career, then teaching at Starfleet medical and finally serving as the Chief of Medical Operations before retiring a few years ago. According to Grandmother, he'd always been a technophobe, but in his retirement, he'd become worse.

So the fact that he was here, on the private island retreat of the Diplomatic Corps, accessible only by transporter, shuttlecraft, or boat, told Angel that is was _not_ a social call.

He stood tall, reed thin, with more salt in his salt and pepper hair, looking through the transparent aluminum wall on the west side of the room at the panorama of the ocean dotted with small islands and the Floridian mainland tracing a dark line in the distance.

"Grandpa?"

He turned, then, and smiled. "Angel-girl," he pronounced in his scratchy Southern drawl. "Come and give your grand-dad a hug."

Suddenly, she was ten again and he was her favorite person in the whole universe. She put aside all questions and moved in easily for a hug. There was as much strength in that hug as there had been fifteen years ago, though, at 83, he seemed to have aged considerably in that time.

Angel pulled back to her full height of just over one and a half meters and looked up at him. "How are you, Grandpa?"

"Going in for another hip replacement in a month, but other than that, I'm fit as a fiddle."

"And what brings you to the island?"

"Does a man have to have an excuse to visit his favorite granddaughter?"

Angel smiled. "I'm your only granddaughter, sir. And when someone hates to travel as much as you do, there has to be a reason."

His blue eyes met hers in challenge and she didn't back down.

"You look like your mother when you get that look on your face."

Angel smiled. "Funny, she's spent my life telling me that I look just like you when I look at her with the same face."

Grandpa scoffed. "What's this I hear you're going to be working for the Vulcan Embassy?"

She frowned. "Where did you hear that?"

"Never mind that, I've come to tell you to change your mind."

Angel's eyebrows rose to greet her auburn bangs. "To _tell_ me?"

He gentled. "_Ask_. Angel-girl, you are so full of fire and passion for life, a year on Vulcan would be torture for you."

"Poppa," she reverted to her childhood name for him. "Haven't you always told me I could do anything I set my mind to?"

"Yes, but you forget: I spent most of my Starfleet career working with a Vulcan and they're very difficult, if not impossible, to understand sometimes, what with their emotions being all bottled up all the time. And don't you go falling in love with one of 'em. Human females get all wrapped up in the 'mystery' of the emotionally distant Vulcan male and soon their pinin' away for years, holdin' on to some hope that one day the object of their affection will show a crack in their armor," he scoffed.

Angel smiled again. "Well, rest easy, Poppa. I won't be stationed on Vulcan. I may travel there from time to time, as needed, but my base of operations will be here on Earth, at the Federation Headquarters in Zurich."

"Then you're not going to be working for the Vulcans?"

"As a member of the Federation's Diplomatic Corps, I work for all Federation citizens," she recited the standard answer.

"Don't get smart, young woman!" He growled, his bright blue eyes flashing.

Still smiling, she raised her hands. "Grandpa, I will be the administrative assistant to the Federation Ambassador-At-Large. It is a very prestigious position. It gives me great opportunities to travel and be a part of the peace process. You should be happy for me."

The old man sighed. "Of all the traits you could have inherited from your grandmother, why'd it have to be her stubborn determination?"

Angel laughed. "She used to say I get that from you!"

He grinned. "I'll tell you what you got from me, Angel-girl," he wrapped an arm around her. "My eyes, my sense of humor and my desire to help people."

"And most importantly, your ethanol tolerance," she laughed.

He chuckled. "Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to have anything hidden away around here? Man needs something to steady his nerves after having his atoms scrambled half-way 'round the planet."

Angel smiled. "I might be able to rustle something up." Then she frowned. "You didn't come from Georgia?"

"Yeah, but might as well have been from Australia. Same difference as far as getting your parts scrambled like a ingredients in a blender." He shook his head. "By the way, who is the Federation's Ambassador-At-Large, these days? Used to be Sarek of Vulcan, as I remember, but that was years ago. Afraid I don't keep up on these things."

Recalling his words from just a few moments ago, Angel smiled a closed mouth smile, knowing the mischief she felt showed in her eyes. "He's an old friend of yours. Probably the reason your source told you I was going to Vulcan – "

"Spock?"

Angel smiled, wider. "Yes, sir."

Her grandfather paused. "Well, you know what? That green-blooded, pointy-eared sonovagun is in for a handful. Almost feel sorry for him."

"Hey!" she attempted a look of righteous indignation, but her smile belied the emotion.

Leonard McCoy chuckled. "Let's find that bottle and drink to makin' life hell for all those who know us."

She laughed out loud. "You can drink to that. I'll drink to you, your health and our long lives."

McCoy tried to frown but his laughing eyes gave him away. "Party pooper." Then he lowered his voice. "And I'll give you some pointers for dealing with one particular Vulcan."

"Deal," she said, taking his hand and leading him down the hall to her personal quarters.


	2. 2315

2315

"Welcome, Ambassador," Angel Carmona said, standing by his desk with a PADD in her hand and communications device in her ear.

"Good morning, Ms. Carmona," the Ambassador's baritone voice intoned.

"I have scheduled your first meeting for 1300 local to give you a chance to settle in and collect your thoughts. At 1500, the Vulcan Science Academy will be dedicating a new wing and invited you to attend. Sarek requests your presence for dinner at 1730 and the Ambassador of Tellar has been calling each hour to make an appointment to speak to you. I hesitated to schedule him since your first available time will be after dinner and it impossible to tell the Ambassador to be quick. I can put him on the itinerary for tomorrow between the meeting with Ambassador Lafre Galdin and the Vulcan Council meeting. It will give you a reason to keep the meeting with Galdin from running long and keep the Tellar brief because neither will want to make you late for the Council."

Spock nodded. "That is fine." He tilted his head, slightly. "However, Ms. Carmona, were you not aware that I would be arriving at this time?"

She checked the chronometer on her PADD. "1130 hours, sir. Right on time."

"How long have you served as my assistant, Ms. Carmona?"

Smiling because she knew where this was going, she responded. "Almost five years, sir."

"And yet, despite that amount of time and all the times I have told you that postponing my meetings for two hours after my arrival is unnecessary, you continue to so. Why?"

"Two reasons, sir," she smiled. "First, there are any number of factors that can lead to your transport arriving late. For example, if I had scheduled the Tellarite Ambassador for 1200 and you did not arrive until almost 1300, how would it look? Not to mention that I wouldn't hear the end of it from either the Ambassador or _his_ assistant."

Spock nodded. "Logical."

"Thank you."

"The second reason?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said two reasons."

She smiled. "I did, didn't I? Well, it's nowhere near as logical." She tried to sound dismissive, in hopes that he would drop the subject.

He waited.

She sighed. "When I first started, I was warned by two different individuals that you would push yourself to exhaustion if permitted to. At the time, I could not think of how I could possibly prevent that, so I simply took the advice of one of those who warned me and allowed for extra time whenever traveling for you to arrive at your location."

"And despite my instructions to the contrary, you have chosen to follow the advice of the others."

Angel smiled. "Well, sir, I'm afraid they both outrank you."

His eyebrow rose. "May I ask who these esteemed individuals are?"

"The former Chief of Starfleet Medical Operations, who, as you know, is my grandfather," she started.

"I might have known Dr. McCoy would instruct you, thus," Spock said.

"But the one to suggest giving you extra time, sir, was The Lady Amanda."

This gave Spock pause. It had been four years since Amanda's unexpected passing and the emotions so carefully suppressed still threatened to surface when he thought of her. After a moment, he said, "It seems I have been adequately outranked."

She'd known him long enough to recognize the slight change in his voice and nodded. "If there's nothing further, sir, I will be in my office."

Spock nodded and sat at his desk to collect his thoughts and regain his tight control. He decided that it would be the last time he objected to her extra time.


	3. 2317

2317

Spock stepped out of the Starfleet Headquarters building in San Francisco to see his assistant, Angel Carmona, arguing with a Starfleet officer. The wind whipped her long auburn hair around causing her to brush it angrily out of her face from time to time. He watched for a moment, noticing the stiffness in her back and the position of her stance that indicated a defensive posture.

The wind carried their words in another direction so that even Spock's keen hearing could not catch what their argument was about, but he was able to pick up not just anger but hurt. He stayed away until the officer stepped toward her, pointing an index finger in her face, which she quickly batted away.

"Excuse me, Ms. Carmona, Lieutenant," he said, addressing them both, while focusing on the officer with a practiced icy stare. "Is something amiss?"

"No, sir," the lieutenant said, stiffening. "We're just saying good-bye."

"And good riddance, you lying sack of sh—" she stopped herself with a look to Spock. Then she turned on her heel and stalked off.

Years of experience dealing with humans told him not to pursue her, even if he had a question regarding his itinerary. Instead, he called the office for the master calendar and retrieved the information that way.

* * *

After his final appointment for the day, Spock returned to his office to find Angel sitting alone in the dark. Only the light of Earth's full moon offered any illumination to the surroundings.

"If you don't mind, sir," she said before he could speak. "Could we leave the lights off?"

"This light is not conducive to a productive work environment, Ms. Carmona."

"I know, sir, but I wasn't exactly working anyway."

Spock frowned, then realized his human assistant was still preoccupied by the scene he'd witnessed earlier. "Perhaps," he offered. "You wish to talk about what troubles you. I have found many humans are more productive after a troubling event when they have the opportunity to speak about it. Your grandfather would say 'Get it off your chest'."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll be fine."

After a pause, he spoke again. "I would postulate that you do, in fact, wish to speak to someone. You are, after all, sitting in the office. If you truly wished to remain silent, would you not simply return to your residence?"

She shook her head, seemingly oblivious to the darkness. "No. He's there…moving his stuff out."

"I was not aware you were cohabitating with the lieutenant."

"We weren't exactly." She took a deep breath. "But he had some of his things at my place."

Spock nodded. "Would you, then, be more comfortable alone? I can do the work I intended at my residence."

Again, she shook her head.

Understanding that she did, indeed, wish to talk, Spock drew a chair close to where she sat. "Who is he?"

"A communications officer at 'Fleet HQ. We met three years ago and we've been – or I _thought_ we'd been – exclusive for almost two years. A friend informed me that my assumptions were in error and when I confronted him, he didn't deny it. He said it was _my fault_ because I wasn't willing to quit my job and marry him! Of all the Neanderthal notions!" She stopped and took a breath. "I'm better off…"

Spock was silent.

"Is it so wrong of me to expect him to want me to continue doing what makes me happy?" She moaned. "Especially when he could be called to a starship and any time and be half and galaxy away for years at a time? What am I supposed to do? Keep house and pine for him? Maybe take up knitting?" She released an exasperated growl.

"Is the idea of marriage loathsome to you?"

"No!" she insisted. "But the idea that I have to give up my work to be married is. And if he loved me, he wouldn't ask me – " Her voice cracked. "Forgive me," she whispered after a moment. "I don't mean to…"

"There is nothing to forgive," Spock replied. He couldn't explain why he had an emotional response to her statements on marriage and decided to put it aside for meditation at a later time. "It is logical, is it not, to end the relationship now that the different opinions on marriage have been discovered?"

She sniffed. "Yes, it is."

"But humans are seldom logical."

He thought he saw her smile a little in the darkness. "You're right about that. I suppose, in that way, the Vulcan mind has an advantage."

Thoughts of other women and relationships that ended because of his commitment to the Vulcan path entered his mind. "Perhaps," he said. "However, there are those who would say that the emotionalism of the Human mind is more liberating than the Vulcan way."

She nodded. "I suppose there are those. Hell, I might even be one of them, usually. But right now…" She sighed. "That Vulcan control would come in handy right now."

"Perhaps I can assist you in developing a meditation that will aid you in controlling undesirable emotions, should the need arise in the future."

She thought for a moment. "I would appreciate that."

They left the office and went to his apartments where he lit a meditation candle and incense, instructing her to sit on one of the cushions in front of the candle.

Over the next few hours, Spock instructed Angel in breathing techniques to slow her heart rate and focus her mind on the candlelight. At one point, however, he noticed her eyes closed as he spoke and he paused.

"If you wish to stop – " he started, assuming she was fatigued.

She opened her eyes. "No!" She smiled and dipped her head. "I apologize. Instead of focusing on the candle in front of me, I lit a candle in my head and focused on your voice."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "If it allows you to meditate, it is acceptable. However, you should learn the proper technique since I will not always be present when you find the need to meditate in the future."

She nodded. "Very well." She once again trained her eyes on the candle in front of her.

When Sol lit the sky on the other side of the building from Spock's west-facing apartment, Angel found that she felt much better; at peace, somehow, with the turn of events.

"I think I could even have a civil conversation with him – if I were to see him," she marveled, softly, while she put her shoes back on.

Spock raised his eyebrow as he wondered, and not for the first time, how she could walk in those shoes. "It may be unwise to test your newfound 'peacefulness' at such as early juncture."

She laughed. "You're probably right, of course."

"Do you require sustenance?" Spock asked after a moment.

"Sir, are you inviting me to breakfast?" There was a familiar sparkle in her eyes that he'd learned over the past seven years meant that she was teasing him.

"Is it not logical, when one spends the night?"

Angel sputtered at the double _entendre_ comeback, then started laughing. "Wow! You got me! I'm going to have to be more careful with my innuendos. You've just confirmed what I've suspected all these years."

"Suspected?"

"Grandpa was wrong about you not having a sense of humor."

His eyebrow rose, which caused her to giggle behind her hand. With her eyes dancing, she said. "Yes, sir, I do require sustenance. You?"

"I will dine with you. After, you will undoubtedly wish to return to your residence to rest for a few hours before attending to your office duties," he stated.

"Actually, sir, I feel as refreshed as if I'd slept for hours. I'll go right in."

Spock shook his head slightly. "Humans require a certain amount of sleep – "

"So do Vulcans. If you can do it, I can – at least this once."

Spock thought for a moment. "Then, after breakfast, we shall both retire for a period of four hours before going to the office. The staff can restructure the morning's appointments."

She smiled, broadly. "Now, are we retiring together or separately?"

Spock knew she was joking, continuing the play on the earlier reference to innuendo. "Which would you rather?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

She began coughing at that point and Spock wondered if he'd responded incorrectly. Finally, her cough turned into laughter. "Oh, yes, definitely going to have to watch myself. Separate will suffice…this time." Her eyes danced.

Spock was relieved that the current crisis seemed to be passed and hoped that Angel would return to her normal, splendidly efficient self. He nodded and indicated to her to follow him to the replicators for breakfast.


	4. 2321

2321

Spock walked into his office to find that Angel was not at her desk. Over the past eleven years, he'd become accustomed to finding Angel at her desk when he arrived. He'd gone through a time of varying his arrival time to find that she was almost always there at her desk before him. Then he inquired as to her sleeping habits.

She'd smiled and assured him that she slept quite well and for an adequate amount of time. Finally, she confessed to learning from a previous assistant that he had the habit of coming to the office a certain amount of time before his appointments started. So she simply came in around ninety minutes before that time, to have the office prepared in case he needed something.

Spock had complimented her on her logic at the time. It made her absence all the more pronounced when he arrived to find she had not come into the office. When the other members of the office staff told him that they had not heard from her – another oddity since on those few times that she'd been ill, she made sure to make several calls into the office – he went to his private office and called up a connection to her apartment.

Angel answered the comms, but audio only. "Sir," she said, sounding muffled.

"Are you ill, Ms. Carmona?"

"Ah, no, sir," she sniffled and cleared her throat. "I apologize, I am going to need a leave of absence."

"Granted," Spock said, without hesitation. "I would offer my assistance."

"Oh, sir, thank you, but no need." She cleared her throat again. "My – it is a family matter, sir."

Spock paused. His nimble fingers began to tap at his PADDs as he continued to speak to her about his calendar, appointments and who in the office would handle which of her duties. By the time he disconnected with her, he'd found the information he was searching for.

Spock paused before dialing the next number. Family matters were intensely private to Vulcans. He decided to proceed because he counted one part of her family as part of his own and had for more than 50 years.

A pretty blonde receptionist answered the connection at the private offices of the retired Admiral, Doctor Leonard McCoy. "Good morning, Ambassador, how may I help you?"

"Is Doctor McCoy available?"

She shook her head. "No, sir. I'm afraid that a family matter has taken him out of the office today. He is on his way to a nearby transporter station. I expect him to check in when he arrives in Rome, in about thirty minutes. Is there a message I can relay to him at that time?"

Spock responded in the negative, quickly tapping up an inquiry for Angelo and/or Joanna Carmona of Rome, Italy, Earth. Immediately after ending the communication, coinciding with his retrieval of the information, he packed his PADD and instructed the office staff to put on hold all appointments.

* * *

Spock arrived at Angel's apartment just as she emerged, carrying a small bag.

"Spock?" she gasped, then stopped herself. "I mean, sir?"

"The transporter nearby is expecting us," he said, firmly.

Angel looked confused for a moment, then relieved as Spock took her elbow briefly to guide her into the awaiting vehicle that would take them two kilometers to the public transporter station. He did not acknowledge her relief, instead recognized a tightness around her eyes that Spock was unused to from a woman he'd come to know for an ever-present twinkle that always seemed to hide a joke.

Using Spock's credentials, they moved to the head of the line of global commuters and Starfleet officers returning to duty. They arrived in Rome moments later and were met by an Ambassadorial attaché who'd been contacted by the ever efficient staff at headquarters. They were whisked off to the Ospedaliera San Giovanni-Addolorota, a modern hospital in the heart of Historic Ancient Rome.

Angel identified herself to the central reception desk and was directed to an area of the hospital where she and Spock were met by Joanna McCoy Carmona, Angel's mother.

As Angel and Joanna spoke, Spock instructed the attaché to acquire and set up quarters nearby to provide for the most efficiency while they were in Rome. He walked away from the attaché to see Dr. McCoy emerge. The doctor spoke to the women and Spock watched them walk into a room without him.

"Spock?" McCoy frowned when he looked up.

"Doctor," the Ambassador said with an incline of his head.

"What in Sam Hill are you doin' here, man?"

"It has been my experience that humans become preoccupied when concerned with family matters."

McCoy smiled, weakly, then. "And you came along to make sure Angel got here safe and sound. I appreciate that, Spock." The aging doctor suddenly seemed every bit of his 94 years. "I think he's only hangin' on for that girl," he sighed.

Spock nodded, grimly. "I can surmise that the prognosis is dire."

McCoy nodded, not even able to muster up a challenge at the matter-of-fact way Spock said what was pulling him apart. "Yeah. I don't expect him to live out the night." He sighed. "Thanks for getting her here so quickly, Spock."

Spock inclined his head, slightly, but said nothing more.

* * *

Spock's attempts at meditation were interrupted when his keen hearing picked up a sound in the Ambassadorial suite he shared with Angel.

Upon their return from the funeral, Angel expressed exhaustion and retired to her quarters. Spock understood her need to grieve in private and eventually retired to his own quarters to meditate. His thoughts were disturbed by memories of Amanda's sudden death in a shuttle accident ten years ago, preventing him from achieving a true meditative state.

He emerged to find Angel standing on the balcony looking out at the ancient ruins of Old Rome, holding a glass of amber liquid. Silently, he walked out to stand near her.

After a long while, she sighed. "Would you say you were close to your mother, Spock?"

He recognized her second lapse in protocol and wondered if it was an indication of a change in her thoughts regarding him. Human ideas of friendship varied so dramatically, one could never quite be sure of any one behavior.

"As a child," he said, thoughtfully. "She seemed the only one who understood what it was to be different and it brought a closeness that might not be thought as typical on Vulcan. After I joined Starfleet, there was a distance created by the disagreement between Sarek and myself. Later, after the Genesis Incident, I spent time on Vulcan and some of the closeness of my childhood returned." He stopped, wondering if his thoughts of Amanda that evening caused the extended answer while also wondering if it brought the answer she sought.

She nodded. "When I was a kid, I was 'Daddy's Little Girl'. As I grew older, we fought a lot, mostly over what I wanted to do with my life. We didn't regain that previous closeness until only a few years ago." She took a quavering deep breath. "Do you ever regret those wasted years? Or is regret exclusive to Humans?"

"Immediately after Amanda's death, I did struggle," he admitted. "I wondered if my prolonged absence hurt her, and _that_ caused regret."

She nodded. "I understand."

Spock's eyebrow rose.

Angel gazed into her glass. "I've spent my life wondering if he was proud of me."

Spock waited.

"I still don't know," her voice-cracked. "That last day…he told me he loved me, but I'll never know if he was proud – "

Spock approached her, standing next to her with his hands behind his back. "I grieve with thee," he said, quietly.

Angel broke down, finally, and cried softly, turning her back to him. He silently sent mental thoughts of support to her, hoping she would feel it and gain strength from it. After a long time, she sniffled and straightened. "Spock?" she asked softly.

He waited.

"Will you help me meditate? I tried earlier, but…"

"I will help."

They moved into the main room and, like the first time, he coached her to a meditative state. Like the first time, she closed her eyes and focused on his voice. This time, however, he didn't correct her.

Over the next three days, Spock listened as Angel spoke of her relationships with her family. Then he'd help her meditate. Then Spock would think of his own familial relationships. At the end of the three days, Angel returned to her mother's home while Spock returned to headquarters, after paying his respects to Joanna, finally at peace with himself regarding Amanda.

* * *

Spock walked in to his office to find Angel at her desk. He acknowledged her return with a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow, then walked into his private office as the office returned to business as usual.


	5. 2325

2325

Spock and Angel were en route to a conference at Risa, when the transport they were on was attacked. Angel was in her quarters when the call for General Quarters went out and, against that basic directive, she moved out of her quarters to go to Spock's. When she got there, he was not in. So she sat down at his desk, waiting for his logical return. After all, when General Quarters are sounded, all non-essential personnel are supposed to report to their quarters, until the All-Clear is sounded.

Then she remembered: Spock had spent nearly sixty years serving as a Starfleet officer.

She stood and cursed, then began to pace.

* * *

Spock was walking through the corridors of the Betazed transport vessel _Janara_, when the ship sounded General Quarters. Spock headed for the bridge of the ship, without thinking twice. Before he arrived, the ship was rocked by an attack and the General Quarters amber lights illuminating the halls turned red and the claxon turned the Red Alert. Spock moved faster.

He arrived on the bridge to find it occupied by armed Orions standing against the Betazed crew. In less than a heartbeat, one of the Orion's swung around, startled by his sudden arrival, and fired his disrupter. He jumped to avoid the blast but felt it rip through his side, just above his heart.

He heard more disruptor blasts then and crawled forward to attempt to look around the console to see what the bridge status was.

As the after-effects of the disrupter beam continued to slowly eat away at his flesh and the tissue around it, he saw the rest of the bridge crew was dead or dying as the Orion pirates beamed away.

* * *

Angel couldn't stand anymore. She decided to try to find Spock. She went to the computer console on the desk and asked the computer to locate Spock by life signs. The computer brought back six possible matches, so Angel gave further parameters: Spock's height and weight, and hybrid aspects that she knew.

_One life sign meets all the specified criteria,_ the computer reported. _Ambassador Spock is located on the bridge._

"What is his status?"

_Unknown._ The computer processed for a few minutes. _Heart rate is elevated, blood pressure is fluctuating.._.

Angel didn't hear the rest. Terrified, she opened the door to his quarters, peeked out, seeing the hall empty, and ran out to find the nearest turbolift.

She hid and moved like a criminal trying to escape the police with a bag full of loot, happy for once that she was small of stature. She didn't know what was happening on this ship. She only knew they were under attack and something was wrong with Spock. Above all else, she knew she had to get to him.

* * *

Spock struggled to enter the healing trance, but the pain was overwhelming him. It would not let up. It was unlike anything he'd been shot with before. A phaser burns through the flesh in a single shot and is finished, then the body's natural reaction releases adrenaline and endorphins to numb the body and block the pain so that the mind is able to begin to healing process. This kind of disrupter continued to eat more and more of his flesh and tissue. It was like he was continuously being grazed with more disruptor fire. There seemed no way to get ahead of it.

"Spock!"

He heard a whispered cry and knew Angel had found him. He was dimly aware of her kneeling next to him.

"Oh, my god, Spock!" she gasped. Her hands shook as she moved the burned fabric of his clothing from the site of the wound. She felt her stomach roil when she saw the deep green blood seeping through his charred skin. She thought she could see a spark along the edges and thought that perhaps he was still being burned. "Oh, Spock, please hold on. Please. I'll be right back."

_Find something cold and wet. _She stood and ran to an undamaged console. "Computer!" she called, desperately, trying not to see the bodies around her. "Computer!"

_Working._

"Send an urgent distress call on all Federation channels, include ship's status and tell them people are dead and hurt."

_Transmitting._

"Computer, where is the emergency medikit?"

After looking at the map the computer furnished, she found and grabbed the medikit, then ran back to Spock, kneeling by his still form. She could still see the wound was bleeding and hoped it meant that he was still alive.

"Spock!" She grabbed his face. "Spock, answer me!"

"Angel," he ground out, softly.

"Oh, thank god! You're still alive. Stay with me, Spock. Can you get to the healing trance?"

Through the pain, a part of his brain that was trying to disconnect from his body wondered how she knew of the trance. "Can't."

She applied something to the injury that seemed so cold that he groaned out loud.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry. I'm trying to stop the bleeding. I don't know what to do, Spock. I'm so sorry! Please stay with me. I called for help. Help is coming. Please don't leave me."

Spock tried to focus on her voice, but the pain was still so intense. He felt like he was slipping away. The pain was worse than the last time he'd died…

Suddenly, she grabbed his bloodied hand and put it to her face. "Take strength from me, Spock," she begged.

"No!" he ground out, trying to pull his hand back.

"SPOCK!" She shouted. "Dammit! I can't do anything else! You can't get to the healing trance. NOW is NOT the TIME to be STUBBORN!" She took his hand and placed it on her face. "Please," she sobbed. "Please, Spock," her angry tone turned to a whimper. "Please, Spock."

He moved his hand slightly to the appropriate position, opened his mind and allowed a small thread of connection to reach out. She gasped, but did not pull away. He could feel her in his mind. He could feel an amount of strength flow into him. He found it remarkable that _she_ should offer such strength, as small and human as she was. The pain was still present. He tried to shield her from it, but she was persistent. Her thoughts were echoed in strained words from her lips.

_Hold on. I'm here. Hold on to me, Spock. You're going to be okay. Please. You have to be okay. Hold on. I'm here. Hold on to me, Spock. You're going to be okay. Please. You have to be okay. Hold on. I'm here…_

It became a mantra he could focus on. He felt the pain fade slightly while he focused on entering the healing trance.

Neither of them knew how long it took for help to arrive. When she reluctantly withdrew from him mentally and pulled his hand from her face so the medics could take him to the rescue vessel's sickbay, she collapsed in convulsive tears. She was barely aware of someone picking her up off the floor and escorting her off the bridge as well.

* * *

Angel entered the sickbay of the Vulcan transport ship that had come to their rescue. She barely acknowledged the healer attending to Spock as she sat down in a chair near him. She closed her eyes and tried to process the events of the day and what she'd felt in Spock's mind – the entire mind meld process.

Orion pirates had come aboard and did not seem to find what they were looking for. The six fatalities on the bridge were among eight total – the other two were in the cargo hold which was ransacked. The ship's computers were being analyzed for information about the Orion ship to attempt to identify it and bring the murderers to justice.

The meld was something she would need to meditate on. She had been shocked by the amount of pain she felt from him, but she knew he was holding something back. When she tried to let him know she could take more – in her untrained, limited way – she felt like he was trying to protect her. When she wanted to know why, she felt warmth for a moment, but it wasn't something definitive. She wanted to figure out what that feeling was but she didn't have the discipline or training to be able to focus on anything other than the matter at hand.

Then there was the fact that he'd actually called her "Angel"…

"Ms. Carmona," the healer said, finally interrupting her thoughts. "You should retire to your quarters. Ambassador Spock will be unconscious for quite a while."

Angel opened her eyes. "If it's all the same to you, I'm not leaving."

"Your presence does not aid his recovery."

"How do you know? My grandfather once told me that unconscious or comatose patients can feel the presence of people who care for them." She shook her head. "No. I'm staying. Speak of it no further." She finished with the formality she'd learned from years of exposure to Vulcan.

The healer raised an eyebrow and then walked away.

* * *

Spock opened his eyes and was immediately aware of a familiar presence. His eyes traveled around the room until they rested upon the sleeping form of Angel Carmona in the chair near his bedside. She was curled in the chair, with one leg braced on the arm of the chair with an arm braced on that leg and her head resting on her hand while leaning against the back on the chair.

He struggled to moisten his mouth and lips and summon his voice. Finally, he croaked her name, weakly. "Angel."

Her eyes opened, sleepily at first. Then she sat up, eyes wide. "Spock?"

He nodded by closing and opening his eyes slowly. "Water?" he asked, hoarsely.

She stood and grimaced. "Foot fell asleep," she explained, limping to the table where the pitcher of ice chips had melted down into cold water. After pouring the water into a cup, she moved back to the edge of the bed and handed it to him, helping him up, slightly.

He sipped the water. When he indicated he was done, she put the cup on the table near the bed and sat back in the chair. He lay flat in the bed and closed his eyes.

She watched him, silently.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "I will recover," he said, in a gruff version of his soothing baritone. "You need not remain."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "How do you know what I need?"

He raised an eyebrow in return. "Explain."

She sighed. "I was terrified when I saw you on that bridge."

"I know."

She frowned and tilted her head. "How – oh!" She paused and her tone softened to almost a whisper. "The meld."

"You should not have attempted to initiate a meld. It was dangerous and you did not know what the potential outcomes may have been."

She pressed her lips together and her eyebrows knitted together as well. "You are the third person to tell me that." She crossed her arms. "Funny. Especially when two of those also told me that without the meld, you might not have survived."

"Did they tell you that if I had died while we were connected, you might have suffered cardiac arrest and died as well?"

She continued to frown. "Yes."

"And your response?"

"It didn't matter. And I'd do it again." She took a deep breath. "Spock, I've worked for you for fifteen years now. For most of those, I've considered you as a friend as well as an employer. I believe you'd do no less for anyone you considered a friend."

Spock closed his eyes, again. After a while, he said. "You are not incorrect. I have done so." He opened his eyes. "But I knew the risks."

She stood up. "Risks be damned," she whispered, harshly. "I couldn't let you die, without at least making the attempt."

Spock looked at her. "Thank you," he said the customary human platitude.

She looked at him and softened. "One does not thank logic," she returned the customary Vulcan response. "And don't tell me it was not logical. It was to me."

Spock nodded. "I need to rest a bit more, but I should be ready to return to our destination by tomorrow."

"We've already cancelled our participation at the conference. We're headed to Vulcan where you will convalesce in your father's home. I will change the location of the convalescence if you wish, but you will recover fully before you even think about traveling for work." The tone of her voice was of pure determination, as though she'd brook no argument.

Spock's eyebrows rose, but he simply closed his eyes, determined to speak again of it, her tone, and the extent her authority later.

* * *

Spock's recovery continued without any medical setbacks, partly because Angel would not allow him to get up for any significant amount of time. She even enlisted the help of Sarek's newest assistant, a pretty, blonde, Human female named Perrin. So whenever Angel had to be out or attending to business, Perrin was present to continue the watch.

Spock was able to do some of his work from the same bed that had been his as a young man. "Ms. Carmona, have you rescheduled the meeting with the President and the Klingon Ambassador?"

Angel smiled as she moved around the room. "Of course. The last thing we'd want are those two showing up at a meeting, expecting you to play intermediary and you not be there. The Ambassador said he will be available as soon as you are recovered. The President's people, however, told me that he would attempt to accommodate you when you're ready." She scoffed. "As if he wouldn't bend over backwards to make any meetings you set up. That man has an over-inflated sense of his own importance."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "He _is_ the President of the United Federation of Planets."

Angel nodded with a small smirk as she approached the door. "And you are Spock. We both know which carries more clout."

Sarek watched the interactions between Spock and Angel quietly. He thought he saw something familiar in their reactions to each other, but wasn't sure it was his place to say anything. His relationship with his son was in a good place now, but it had not always been so. When Angel left the room to prepare lunch, Sarek moved fully into the room.

"Are you recuperating adequately?" Sarek asked.

Spock set aside the PADD and inclined his head. "I am. Healer Sorel has indicated that I should be able to return to full duties in two more days."

"It seems Ms. Carmona will not allow it before Sorel's approval."

Spock inclined his head. "She is as voracious as her grandfather at times."

"Have you thought there might be something more evolving in her emotional responses to you?"

Spock's eyebrow rose. "Such as?"

Sarek inclined his head sideways in what Spock recognized as his equivalent to a non-committal shrug. "As you know, humans are highly emotional creatures and females are more so than their male counterparts. Her reactions seem to indicate a deeper emotional bond than simply employer/employee."

"We have established a friendship outside of the workplace as well, Sarek."

Sarek nodded. "Then perhaps that is all there is."

Spock regarded his father for a moment. "You do not think so, however."

Sarek looked around the room. "My son, I would never presume to be able to offer insight into the human female mind, even after being married to your mother for many years. They are an enigma. Some show a ferocity of protectiveness over every soul they care about, even mildly. Some do not show this trait even for those they are supposed to be closest to."

"What of Mother?"

"Your mother was of the former group. She could be protective of her students as well as her family and friends. She was gifted with the ability to couch that ferocity with gentleness and had a diplomat's ability to allow you to feel that it was, in fact, your idea to rest and heal."

Spock nodded at this assessment. Even as a child, she rarely scolded. She seemed to cajole him into doing what she wanted him to do. Looking back, Spock acknowledged, wryly, that most of the time, he'd come out of the discussion feeling like the victor. "She was a remarkable woman."

"Indeed. I believe she approved of Ms. Carmona."

This statement surprised Spock, though he was quick to hide it. "I know they spoke, but I was not aware that she'd developed an opinion of her."

"She would never have mentioned it to you, my son. You should know this of her."

Spock inclined his head. "You are, of course, correct."

"What of Ms. Carmona? I have noticed that she calls you Spock."

"It _is_ my name."

"But is it not more appropriate for her to address you as 'Mr. Ambassador' or 'Ambassador Spock' or, more simply 'sir'?" Sarek raised a hand to hold off Spock's most immediate response. "It is not that I am presuming to instruct you on how to conduct your offices. I am merely offering the theory that perhaps there may be something more to her familiarity. Perhaps she is more like your mother than not. It may be worth investigating."

Spock's eyebrows rose at his father's final remark. Angel entered at that moment with a tray full of sandwiches. Sarek excused himself, leaving Spock to puzzle out the possible meanings behind his father's last statement, while Angel distributed the sandwiches.


	6. 2326

2326

"Ms. Carmona, may I see you in my office?"

Angel tapped her ear piece. "Absolutely, sir. I will be right there." She gathered up her PADD and made sure its stylus was in place and not left on her desk. Then she moved out of her office through the main reception area to his office. "You rang?" she asked in her usual way. Spock's raised eyebrow and cool look made her pause. "Sir?"

"I have received a fascinating communiqué from the Office of the President of the UFP."

Angel's eyebrows came together in a frown. "Regarding?"

"It appears that you have been requested to serve in the President's staff."

Angel's eyebrows went from a furrow to raised high. "What?"

"Did you request a transfer?"

"Absolutely not!" Angel was adamant. "I was asked if I would be interested, last year, in serving on his staff, but I let the person know that I was _absolutely not_ _interested_."

"I will confess that I find this request disturbing."

Angel looked shocked then frowned again. "Why? Do you actually think I would go behind your back to get a promotion? Why would I do that? I have worked for you for more than 15 years and I have never been anything but honest with you."

Spock paused and regarded her coolly.

Angel took a deep breath and pulled herself up straight. "I did not request the transfer, sir. I do not wish it and, if offered, I will turn it down."

A momentary silence, Spock looked back at the PADD. "Perhaps it is too great an opportunity to refuse."

Her eyes widened. "You _want_ me to take it?"

Spock regarded her with patience.

She swallowed, feeling like she'd been chastised with his look. "Continue," she said, finally.

"Ms. Carmona, why do you believe you were requested by the President's office?"

"Because I'm damned good at my job, sir," Angel snapped.

"And do you not agree that it is a great opportunity?"

"Perhaps, for someone else. Not for me."

"Why?"

Angel frowned. "My place is here."

"And if I were to retire tomorrow?"

Her eyes widened, then she recovered. "You are nowhere near ready to retire, sir, with all due respect. It does not seem logical to venture into the realm of 'what if'."

Spock regarded her silently for a moment.

"Don't look at me like that, sir!" she demanded. "It is my decision to make. Unless you have suddenly become dissatisfied with my work and want to fire me, I choose to stay. I was offered the job and refused it; I don't know why someone would then send the request to you. I do not wish to discuss it further."

Spock acquiesced. "As you wish."

"If you'll excuse me," she turned on her heel and walked out.

The rest of the afternoon was business as usual, but Angel never had been very good at hiding her anger. Each time Spock interacted with her, he could feel the coolness. He took note and decided to talk to her about it at a later time.

* * *

Spock arrived at Angel's door, unannounced. The decision to come was well-reasoned with logic, but he began to question his logic when he reached her door. Before he could make another analysis or move, her door opened.

She looked as if she'd been drinking. "Hello, there, _Ambassador_." Her words were just slightly slurred, but her usage of his title as a curse, confirmed that she was not herself. "Come in."

Spock looked intrigued. "Were you expecting me?"

"Nope. Just a lucky guess," she walked back into her quarters and he followed. She pointed at the table with a tall bottle of amber liquid. "Want a drink?"

Spock remained silent, causing Angel to turn toward him, "No? Didn't think so."

"Why are you drinking, Angel?"

She stopped and spun at him. "Don't call me that."

Spock frowned.

"Not this time. 'Cause you don't mean it."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "Explain."

She shook her head. "No. _You_ explain. Explain how you could honestly think I would want to _leave_? Now? After almost _seventeen_ years? Especially after what happened last year? How?"

Spock regarded her silently.

"Do you know that this is _not_ the first time I've gotten an offer like this? The _last_ President asked _three times_! If I wanted to leave I could have a long time ago."

She turned back at him. "Maybe you _do _want me to go," she said, slowly. "Why?"

Spock tilted his head, regarding her in silence.

After another moment, she continued. "You know what I can't understand?"

He raised his eyebrows.

She through her hands up in exasperation. "Anything! I'm so friggin' confused right now I don't even know my own name right now!" She pointed at him with the hand holding the drink. "And don't you say it's because I've been drinking."

"Angel – "

"I told you not to call me that!"

He frowned and said, sternly. "Angel," he repeated, deliberately. "_Sit down_."

Angel stopped and considered a minute. Finally, she sat down in the chair near to him, sulking.

"I would not ask you to leave if it is not your wish to do so. I simply wanted you to consider a course of action that may serve to benefit you. It is an opportunity for you." When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up a long thin finger. "Several years ago, you lamented that a man wanted you to give up your chosen profession to serve his needs. I would never wish to come between you and what you desire. Even if it means encouraging you to make a choice you might otherwise hesitate to make."

Angel suddenly looked thoughtful, though she was still frowning. Then she stood and approached him. "But do you wish for me to go?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. He looked down at her, his eyes soft. "I do not," he said, gently.

She smiled, then. "Good. 'Cause you're stuck with me."

He inclined his head. Then he frowned. "You voiced some confusion. May I ask you to clarify?"

She blushed, then, and turned away. "No. I'm sorry I said all that. I guess I was just afraid that you wanted me to go away."

"What did you mean when you told me not to call you by your name because I 'didn't mean it'?"

Her eyes widened. Then she sighed. "The first time you ever called me by my name was that day…" she looked toward the balcony, out the window.

He stood next to her. "Yes."

"You did again when you woke from your healing trance. It made me feel like I might be more than just an assistant to you," she looked down. "Silly girl," she whispered so softly that Spock's ears almost didn't make out the words. "Poppa warned you."

"You were not mistaken," he said, gruffly. "While I cannot pretend to know what Dr. McCoy warned you about, I can tell you that Sarek caused me to examine the shift in our relationship."

Her eyebrows rose, but her eyes did not meet his. "Sarek? Shift?"

"He said that perhaps your reaction to the incident was more than that of a mere assistant."

She looked up at him, then. "And you? What do you think?"

Spock looked down at her. "I have lived my entire life as a Vulcan. As such, there are things I am unable to convey."

She swallowed. "Could you show me?"

He knew what she was referring to. "You would be willing?"

She nodded, even though her insides trembled.

He took the drink out of her hand and put it on a nearby table. Taking her elbow, he led her to the couch and sat down next to her. When she took a shaky breath, he caught her eyes with his and held them for a moment. "You need not do this, Angel."

She swallowed and nodded. "I want to."

"Perhaps that desire is caused by the ethanol."

She shook her head and leaned toward him. "I'm not that intoxicated, Spock. Please, I need to know."

Spock placed his warm fingertips against the pressure points on her face. She took hold of his shirt and stiffened. He paused. "Relax, Angel. There will be no pain this time."

She took another deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm ready, now."

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," he intoned in his soothing baritone.

Angel closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Suddenly, he was there, in her head. He paused to give her a chance to adjust to the feeling of him in her mind. He could feel her smile and it encouraged him. He let her in. Tentatively, she reached out to him. She wanted to find the warmth she'd felt from him before and explore it. Somehow, she conveyed this to him and he showed it to her. Her heart swelled and she offered it to him.

Angel had no idea how much time passed, but when he separated from her, her face was wet. Without thought, she leaned forward and hugged him, but without lingering. "Thank you," she whispered.

"One does not thank logic," he responded, softly.

She smiled. "If you insist."

He rose and walked with her to her door. When they reached the door, she looked up at him and smiled.

Suddenly, he was struck with the illogical desire to do what a human male would do in such a situation as this. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. When he pulled back and she said simply "Me, too,", then, he knew she understood.


	7. 2327

2327

Dr. Leonard McCoy walked into his study to find an old friend sitting comfortably in one of the overstuffed chairs with his fingers steepled in front of him. "Hello, Spock," he smiled. "Come to celebrate my centennial early? And where's my granddaughter?"

Spock looked up and raised an eyebrow. "As your centennial is more than four Terran months away, to celebrate now would be premature. And Angel is in Zurich."

McCoy's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Since when have you started callin' her by her given name? Not very Vulcan of you."

Spock stood. He seemed to frown. "Doctor, we have known each other for a great number of years."

"Yes," McCoy agreed, then raised an eyebrow at him. "What have you got going through that Vulcan mind of yours?"

Spock regarded McCoy with patience. "There is an ancient Earth custom that requires a man to present a proposal to the father of his intended, is there not?"

"_You're_ thinkin' about gettin' _married_, Spock? Well, hot damn! Congratulations!" He smacked Spock on the shoulder. "Who's the lucky gal?"

Spock was determined to continue on the course he'd begun. "If the father is not available, who is the next logical person?"

McCoy turned thoughtful. "Well, where I come from, it would be the next male relative, though these days, a man could ask any of the female members of the household as well."

Spock nodded. "I am here, then, to inform you that I intend to propose a marital union to Angel."

McCoy sputtered. "What? Spock, you're almost as old as I am!"

Spock tilted his head. "You forget that because of my natural longevity, I have barely entered middle age."

McCoy looked around. "So how does she feel 'bout it?"

"I will present my proposal this evening."

"So you're gonna propose to her without knowing her answer?" McCoy chuckled and shook his head. "Gutsy."

Spock leveled a look at McCoy.

"You're sure," the doctor asked.

"I am."

"You know, I warned her not to fall in love with a Vulcan."

"Yes."

"Did she?"

"Yes."

"You seem awful certain."

"I am."

McCoy studied his old friend. "You'd best not break her heart."

Spock inclined his head. "It is not my intention."

McCoy thought for a moment. "You have my blessing, old man. If she'll have you."

Spock bowed his head slightly.

"When will the big date be?"

"We will be in Vulcan in two weeks. I will ask Sarek to witness the bonding."

"You don't think she'll want her family there?"

"Will it be possible for you and her mother to be present? I was told that you will not travel," Spock tilted his head.

"Travel be damned, I'll be there. Just let me know when." McCoy grinned. "_If_ she says yes."

* * *

Spock arrived at Angel's apartment and waited for her to answer the door. They were supposed to go to dinner together, but he had different plans. When she opened the door, he was struck by her beauty. She wore a black dress with simple silver jewelry accenting it. Her auburn hair was loose and hanging down her back and her makeup was, as usual, demure.

He stepped into her apartment and looked down at her. "Angel."

She smiled up at him, her fingers barely brushing the fabric of his tunic and invited him to sit down.

Instead he pulled his dark tunic straight and walked to the balcony window. He clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.

Angel's eyebrows rose as she stood behind him. "Is there something wrong, Spock?"

He turned to her. "I would speak with thee." He said, formally.

Angel straightened. "Speak," she responded, correctly.

"Years ago, I asked Sarek why he would choose to marry a human woman. He told me that, as the Vulcan Ambassador, it was the logical thing to do. At this time, I do not believe that was truly the case."

Angel nodded. "Perhaps it was his way of expressing something that cannot be expressed in Vulcan society."

His eyes smiled down at her, though his face was as stoic as ever. "I believe you are correct." He returned to gazing out the window. "I believe he was truthful about the logic of his decision, but it was not because he was the Vulcan Ambassador. One of the things I have observed from all these years of exposure to Humans is that sometimes logic _can_ be guided by emotion. When one finds that he has developed deep emotions for another, then the only logical course of action is to commit to that person. Humans call this marriage. Vulcans call it bonding. There are differences, but the commitment is the same."

Angel looked thoughtful, facing the window, but not really looking out.

"Angel?"

She looked up at him.

"I am not doing this very well."

Angel's eyebrows rose. "You're doing rather well as far as I'm concerned. Your insight is unique. You are in a rare position to truly analyze this."

Spock frowned and turned away from her. "I am attempting to make a proposal, Angel," he explained.

She smiled, softly. "I know. Wouldn't the logical thing be to just ask?"

Spock looked at her, directly, then, and saw that her eyes were dancing. His eyebrow rose. "Perhaps, but then perhaps an empathetic Human female might not require it upon seeing a Vulcan's difficulty."

Angel moved close to him, to face him, and move her hand to his cheek. Her blue eyes were earnest as she said. "I want you to feel that you can say anything to me, Spock, at any time. I want you to be comfortable with me, no matter what. It is imperative to me that it be this way." She shifted, slightly. "I love you, Spock. With all that I am. More than I thought possible. If it makes you happy to continue as we have been, I am willing. If you want something more, you have to ask."

Spock voice was slightly gruff when he replied. "Will you marry me, Angel Carmona?"

She smiled. "Yes," she breathed.

Spock released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He then took Angel's hand and held it to his face for just a fraction of a second before taking it to lead her to the couch.

She sat next to him and took his hands in hers. "Tell me about the Vulcan bonding ceremony."

"It is not a ceremony necessarily. When two people wish to bond, there is a mind meld. A third person, usually a family member, but sometimes a healer, witnesses the meld to ensure that a bond is made. The logical person to ask will be Sarek, though I have asked Drs. McCoy and Carmona to be present as well."

She smiled. "You've spoken to my grandfather about this?"

Spock nodded. "I believe that is the tradition."

"It is an extremely old tradition."

"Many of Vulcan's traditions are ancient."

She sobered. "Okay. So continue, please."

"The meld will be deeper than what we shared before. We will become joined in such a way that when we part, we will still feel a connection to each other. We will share all there is to know about each other in that meld."

She frowned. "It seems extremely personal to share with a third party."

"There have been cases where a healer or family member only melds to confirm the joining bond has taken place. We need not wait, if you wish."

She tilted her head, then smiled. "You're reminding me of an anxious groom, sir. Looking forward to the wedding night?" Then she frowned. "About that…"

Spock waited, suspecting the question that would be coming. "Ask."

"Well, I'm afraid I don't know much about," she cleared her throat. "but I have heard a rumor about once every seven years."

He nodded. "You needn't worry about waiting that long."

She actually blushed when she smiled this time. "I don't know if I was _worried_ so to speak…maybe a little _concerned_."

Spock moved a piece of hair that had moved into her face. "I have been told that the physical joining is enriched by the mental bond."

Angel looked up at him. "Okay." She stopped his hand. She placed it on the side of her face, as she had when he'd been hurt. "Show me."

He took her hand and placed it on the side of his face, positioning her fingers in the appropriate pressure points. Then he positioned his own hand on her face and said, softly. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts…"

_She was with him as a child, hurting for him as other children taunted him for his human blood. She watched him give up the fastest time on record for completing the 'kahs-wan' to help a classmate, who had been one of the bullies. She watched him make the choice between Starfleet and the Science Academy. She felt his anger and betrayal when his father disapproved of his choice and failed understand why that choice was made. She felt him struggle with the emotions that sometimes threatened to overtake him and felt him torture himself because he believed his Vulcan half too weak to overcome the Human half. Through his eyes, she met Christopher Pike and others important people in his career. She was able to experience his deep feelings for James T. Kirk – his pain at each of Kirk's losses: Keeler, Miramanee, Rayna, Carol, David, the rest of his family. She was introduced to her Grandfather as a much younger man. She experienced his struggles with the idea of romance with a number of human females who wanted more than he could give and the confusion that was brought on by T'Pring's refusal of their betrothal. She learned of 'pon farr' and 'plak-tow', then. She witness his turn to 'kolinahr' and his return to Starfleet, V'Ger and Kahn._

_She wept as she experienced his death. She marveled at Amanda's command presence during his retraining. She marveled also at his change, his maturity from his youth. His death and resurrection brought a great amount of peace within him. She experienced his work at Khitomer and then his pain at the loss of Kirk, while he was away, only a few months after Kirk's retirement. She mourned the loss, one by one, of all his human friends from his days as first officer on the Enterprise – with the exception of her grandfather, the man who'd held his 'katra', and she found out that Spock fear he would feel McCoy's death as keenly as he'd felt Kirk's. Perhaps more because they'd experienced so many years beyond Kirk's death._

_She felt his pain at Amanda's sudden death and how he struggled with the loss._

_She met herself as a child at a family function her grandfather had talked Spock and Kirk into attending. She met herself again as a twenty year old graduate student and, then, again as a twenty-five year old administrative assistant. She felt his love for her begin to develop. She experienced the moment that he realized that what he was feeling toward her was, in fact, a romantic kind of love, and the surprise that realization brought. She felt his pain when she lost her father, his desire to hold her as she cried, but his battle with his Vulcan sense of propriety._

_She saw him relieved when she appeared on the bridge, not wanting to die without seeing her one more time. She felt his relief when he realized that she had romantic feelings for him – something confirmed by his father's comments to him during his convalescence. She experienced his struggle with what course of action to take and his hesitation when he decided what he should do._

At the same time:

_He experienced the birth and death of her younger brother when she was five – her first conscious memory. He felt the confusion and pain of his loss. He witnessed her life at school, a happy childhood. He experienced her feelings for her 'Poppa', the loss of her grandmother, the fights with her father, the disappointment when her mother took his side. He learned that she was intrigued by him at their first meeting when she was a child. He found out that she thought of him often in high school, after another meeting. He felt her excitement at meeting him again in graduate school and how pleased she was when she learned that her hard work had earned her the position she coveted: working with him. He felt her realize that she was falling for him and experienced her dismissing it as an impossible crush - something he found amusing. _

_He felt her pain at the betrayal of her last serious romantic relationship and the later realization that it could have never worked long if she continued to work with him. He felt her feelings of safety as he taught her about meditation, as he guided her from Zurich to Rome, as he listened to her lament about her father. He felt her intense fear when she found him on the bridge. _

She shuddered and expressed a desire to skip the visual.

_He experienced it because her desire to avoid the memory brought it to the fore. He guided her thoughts quickly past the memory to when she waited for him to waken from the trance. He felt her heart beat strong and fast as she realized that she had loved him for most of her life. He felt it beat the same way when she realized that he felt the same for her._

After they shared their pasts, they explored their current feelings. Finally, they separated. Her face was wet as it had been the last time and he gently wiped the tears from her face. She touched his lips with her fingertips, then, and moved toward him. He lowered his head and kissed her gently.

"I can still feel you in my mind!" she marveled. "Is that normal?"

He nodded. "It is a part of the bonding. It may fade to be a presence in the back of your mind, but it will enable us to be together, even if we are not physically together. You may reach across the link to contact me anytime you feel the need."

"So, in Vulcan terms, are we now married?"

He smiled at her, freely. "Yes. There will have to be a witness to the bonding and we can have a marriage ceremony, if you wish, but we are now bonded and will remain so until our deaths."

Angel touched his cheek. "I love that smile."

Spock's smile faded and he looked at her with earnest. "While I have no doubts that you understand what it means to be the wife of an ambassador, you must understand what it means to be bonded to a Vulcan."

"Don't worry, my love," Angel smiled. "I know what it means to love you. You will be unable to show overt affection for me in public. But in private, will I see that smile? You must also understand what it means to be married to a human. There will be times I will need your affection."

"In private, I will do all that I can to assure you that I care deeply for you. In public, you need only touch the bond to feel what I feel for you." He felt free as he said. "I love you, my wife."

She moved into his arms and he held her, lowering his face to kiss her. She pushed him back on the couch and curled into his chest, nuzzling his neck. He could feel that she was exhausted and simply held her that way, until they both slept.

* * *

The reception to celebrate their marriage was a large affair with diplomatic contacts as well as friends and family in attendance. As was expected in Vulcan society, they were restrained in showing affection to each other and Angel moved from his side from time to time to attend to her duties as hostess as Spock did the same to attend to his diplomatic contacts. She approached her grandfather, standing with a young lieutenant dressed in the newer Starfleet uniform.

"Angel-girl, I'm so proud of you," McCoy said. "This here is Lt. Picard, who's waiting to be picked up by the transport to Starbase Earhart. He's been assigned as part of the security detail."

Angel smiled at the handsome young man. "Welcome, sir, to our happy occasion."

"It is an honor, Lady Angel."

She smiled broadly and looked up at her grandfather. "_That_ is going to take some getting used to."

McCoy nodded. "Yeah, a lot of formality in these Vulcan circles. He's a damned lucky man, Angel. And I have known him long enough to be able to say that you're damned lucky as well. He falls hard, but not easily, my dear. I wish you both all the happiness in the universe." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you, Poppa. And to think you told me not to fall in love with him."

McCoy laughed and Angel moved back to the side of her husband. Spock lifted two fingers and she touched them with her own outstretched fingers, reveling in the strength of the bond that held them forever linked.

FIN


End file.
